


Surprise Guest

by Skalidra



Category: Batman (Comics), Under the Red Hood
Genre: Canon Related, Gen, Gen or Pre-Slash, Injury
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-06
Updated: 2016-10-06
Packaged: 2018-08-22 01:09:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,086
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8267147
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Skalidra/pseuds/Skalidra
Summary: After being injured while trying to chase down the Red Hood, Dick returns to his Gotham safe house to rest for the night (Alfred has enough to take care of at the manor without him as a distraction). But there's someone waiting there that he's definitely not expecting.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome! This was written for Round 2 of the Batfam Rolling Remix. It's written as Gen, but you can see JayDick to it, if you want! Enjoy!

The leg is hard to move. Not impossible, but he's pretty sure he's pulled a major muscle somewhere, and whatever it is it's making it a special kind of hell to rest any weight on his knee. He's going to be out of things at least a couple days, judging by how much of a pain in the ass it was to get up to his local Gotham safe house, after denying Alfred's offer of staying in the manor. it'd be smarter, but honestly Bruce is sunk deep into research-mode, and he doesn't want to be part of that right now.

There was something… off, about the Red Hood. Something bizarrely familiar. Not to mention the fact that he's very well trained and clearly a hell of a strategist, if this whole night proves anything. It's going to be a hell of a case, and he'd just be in the way tonight. Alfred has better things to do.

He finally shuts the door behind him, sighing and just resting on the crutches for a minute, letting himself grimace. Alright, ice first, heat afterwards, and a marathon of terrible old movies because nothing else plays at… what is it? Two AM? That'll get him through the night at least; in the morning he can figure out some better way to deal with all this. Maybe he can coordinate with Barbara or something, and try to get Bruce to accept some actual help.

He crutch-walks his way over to the fridge, and gets as far as opening the door to the freezer before a distorted voice echoes into his apartment.

"I was wondering if you were going to show up or not."

He spins around, wobbling on the crutches in a way he almost never does anymore, heart rate jumping through the _roof_. His gaze lands on a figure leaning back against the frame of the doorway to his bedroom, arms casually crossed. Red helmet, grey armor, dark brown leather jacket. _Shit_. He tightens his grip on his crutches, bracing back against the fridge in case he needs to, maybe, throw one of them at him or something.

It hits him just a moment later that the Red Hood is _in his safe house_. No alarms, no warning, and he's not in Gotham often so this doesn't get used much. Either — oh _god_ — the Red Hood found his safe house and waited for him here, or he was tracked to the manor and then from there to here. Either one means that his identity is compromised, which is kind of backed up by the Red Hood leaning there and looking at him, sans mask or costume or anything.

"How— How did you…? What are you doing here?!"

"Just thought I'd swing by and see how the leg was holding up after the collision." A small tilt of the helmet, angling the hidden gaze down to his crutches, and the leg he has bent and barely touching the ground. "That's one bat clipped; think I should bother with the little ones or just go straight for the head of the pack?"

"You leave them the _hell_ alone," he snarls, worry overriding anger at the casual thought of the Red Hood going after any of the rest of their family. They're not good enough. They're too _young_. "You want a fight? Keep it to someone your own size, Hood."

A snort. "Who; you? You're a couple inches short of that, Dickie." He pushes off of the door frame, arms falling to his sides. _Dangerously_ close to the holster of a gun, and the sheath of a long knife. "Anyway, I'm not looking for a fight. Never was; you can relax. None of this has got anything to do with you."

Disbelief drags a rough laugh from him, as he stares. "Nothing to do with me?" he echoes. "You break into my safe house to what, gloat? Show off that you know who I am? And you say this hasn't got anything to do with me? Are you delusional or scared we'll hand your ass to you if you can't take us one at a time?" Not smart, to antagonize the villain, but really it's habit at this point. Plus he's in pain, he's angry, and everything about this still feels _off_. Something is wrong and he can't figure it _out_.

The Red Hood slides across the room; graceful, measured steps, almost entirely without sound. Like… That's familiar too, in a very different way. It almost looks like the way that the members of the League of Assassins move. But there's no way that this guy is with them.

The Red Hood stops just out of range of a swing of his crutches, staring down at him. "I didn't want you here," he says, almost sincerely. "I still don't. I know you're really bad at this, but stay down, Nightwing. Stay out of the way. This is between me, Bruce, and J—” A sharply cut off syllable, and instantly his mind clicks into overdrive to identify the name, at the same time as it panics that the Red Hood _knows who Bruce is_. "You've got your own city; go back to it. This is coming to a head, and you don't want to be in the middle of it when it does. Trust me."

"You said you weren't looking for a fight," he says in a rush, as the Red Hood starts to turn away. It gets him a pause. "What _are_ you looking for, if that's not it?"

There's a long moment of silence, and then he gets the response, "Justice, and answers. You'll understand." A brief pause, before that helmet turns a little more towards him. "It's good the leg's not broken, but try getting out of the way faster next time; your luck won't last forever, Dickie."

He stares, caught off guard by the bizarre mix of thoughts in those sentences. "Who _are_ you?"

A shrug, and the Red Hood heads for his window, back to him like he's not a threat. Or like he thinks he's good enough even if he is a threat. "Ask Bruce; I'm sure he's got an idea by now, even if he doesn't want to share." The window gets shoved open, and his alarms go off like _sirens_. The Red Hood calls, "Till next time, Nightwing!" and drops out.

It takes him another few seconds before he jolts into moving forward, to shut off that alarm. He needs to talk to Bruce.


End file.
